More than words
by Hope Calaris
Summary: It's December. Sam is sick and Dean is desperate to cheer him up while their money is running out but who says that Christmas angels only help people who believe in them? Wee!chesters.


**Summary: **It's December. Sam is sick and Dean is desperate to cheer him up while their money is running out - but who says that Christmas angels only help people who believe in them? Wee!chesters.

**Author's notes:** I took some liberties with the prompt and hope that Tempest still likes it. And how amazing is it that I actually found a town called "Bethlehem" when I searched for a place in West Virginia (since I wanted to set the story in pointofview's home state)?

**Dedication: **To Tempest, who gave me this wonderful prompt, to Claire, who gave me insight into children's books and who proof-read for me, and to Isi, who will hopefully like this story even if I didn't knit Sammy's present.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, never will be. Still wish you all a Merry Christmas.

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**More than words**

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_December 1992, Bethlehem, West Virginia_

"You know, I don't think he even believes in us, anyway," the young man said from the counter where he sat cross-legged and watched her moving around between the small aisles. Every other moment she disappeared behind another one of the high shelves of books. The shelves had once been rich green in color, but now they were bleached by years and dust, and the paint was beginning to chip. She was putting a book with a crimson-colored cover back into its place (an earlier customer had decided for another one), but she paused as he spoke.

"And you know that that's not really the point, don't you?" He tilted his head and smirked at her, to which she responded with a frown, before she shook her head. "Sometimes, I really wonder how we ended up being together."

"We're a good team," he answered and his smirk grew even bigger. He unfolded his legs and jumped to the ground. "And I have an idea about how we'll get him to take our gift."

---

"Sammy?" Dean touched the forehead of his younger sibling and sighed when it still felt too warm to his hand. Sam blinked a few times, his eyes still laden with an unrestful sleep, before focusing on his brother's face. "How're you feeling?"

"Still sick … when's Dad coming?" Dean flinched at the question, then hoped that Sam hadn't registered that in his feverish mind.

"Soon."

"How soon?" Dean cursed inwardly. Even with the flu Sam couldn't stop asking questions. The truth was that their dad already was on his way back. Dean had called him as soon as Sam developed a fever, but the hunt had taken their Dad further away than anticipated and he wouldn't be able to make it here in less than two days. Until then they had to last with the little money that was left after Dean had spent the majority of it on medicine for Sam.

"Just sleep, Sammy."

"Can't. Hurts." Dean watched his little brother curling together under the baby-blue covers and suddenly remembered a night long ago, when a soft voice read him a story until he fell asleep, feeling safe and loved.

With one hand resting on one of Sam's legs to offer the little comfort he could, his eyes searched their eggnog-colored motel room. He tried to remember if they had a any books that didn't include rituals on how to kill a water spirit or the gruesome details of several West Virginian haunting lores. He spotted Sam's backpack on top of the only table in the room, but was sure the only thing he would find in it were the books Sam needed to complete his assignments during the Christmas holidays.

He bent down to Sam and shook his shoulder slightly. "Sammy."

"What?," came the annoyed reply. Dean was having trouble seeing Sam's head under all the blankets.

"I'm going to leave you alone for a little bit, okay?" Suddenly two pair of brown orbs appeared and blinked at him with surprise.

"You're leaving?"

"Only for a short while," Dean assured him. "I need to get some stuff."

Sam frowned in disapproval. "More medicine?"

"Yes, more medicine." Dean smiled, since that wasn't actually a lie. "Don't leave the bed, don't open the door and don't disrupt the – "

"Salt lines. I know."

"Okay, okay." Dean held his hands up before he ruffled Sam's hair. "Be good."

---

It had started to snow half an hour earlier and by now the main street of Bethlehem was covered with a thin layer of snow, which reflected the orange light of the street lamps. He stood at the shop windows of the bookstore and hummed a Christmas carol. Behind him a few people wandered around the shelves, searching for presents or a book to get lost in during the holidays.

"You think he'll find us in the snow?", he asked her when she stopped next to him to drink in the sight of snow flakes sailing though the dark.

"He will." She smiled. "They always find us."

---

Dean shivered and his feet felt cold when he reached the main street of whatever town they were staying in. He had spotted a little bookstore somewhere here when they first drove through in the search for a motel, but the thickly falling snow made it difficult to see.

He thought he had missed it when it suddenly appeared in the white landscape. He smiled in relief when he saw the light reaching out into the dark through big windows with brown wooden frames.

Warmth greeted him like a long lost friend when he closed the creaking door behind him and looked around. He wandered through the store in search for the children's book section and saw that every corner of the shop was stacked full of books in different sizes and colors, as were all the shelves, leaving almost no room to turn and move around in the store. Sam would love this place, he thought.

He finally found a shelf full with colorful children' books that reached so high he had to tilt his head back to see the top of it.

"Are you searching for something in particular?" He jumped when he heard the voice behind him. He turned around and looked in the face of a shop assistant whose name tag identified her as 'Meggie' or 'Marge' – Dean couldn't remember her name later on.

"I'm .. um, searching for a book." As soon he realized what he'd said, he wanted to hit himself. He fully expected her to laugh at him, but instead she just smiled pleasantly.

"Then you're in the right place. Is the book for you or someone else?"

"For my little brother, he's sick."

"Oh, poor boy." She looked at the books in front of them, seemingly deep in thought. "How old is he?"

"Nine."

She bent down and pulled a book out of the shelf. "_The Book of Three_, by Lloyd Alexander. I think your brother will like it." She handed him the book and left him alone to help another customer.

Dean turned the book around to read the description, and as he glanced at the price it hit him that he couldn't really afford the book. They had barely enough left to feed them for the next two days and stealing it was out of question, especially after the disaster they'd had with the stolen presents last Christmas. He sighed and blinked the angry tears away as he put the book back into its place.

"So, do you think he will like it?" Apparently he had left his hunting skills at the door since he again hadn't heard her approaching him.

"No ... I mean, yes. I'm sure he would like it, but ... ," he rubbed his eyes and hoped they didn't looked as red-rimmed as they felt. She looked at him with a puzzled face.

"So what's the problem?" He was about to turn away and just leave the store since he sure as hell wouldn't tell her he didn't have the money to make his little brother happy_and_ feed him. "Wait." Her small hand on his shoulder stopped him. "You know, the price on the book is only a suggestion." She made an undefined move with her hand in the direction of the book. "It's been here forever and it's covered in dust. It even has dog-ears." He looked at her and wasn't sure she actually meant what he thought she meant. "Nobody will buy it, so you take it." He didn't know what to say, and that was a rare occurrence. "Just promise me you will read it to him." She twinkled and Dean was too bewildered to object.

"I promise."

She clapped her hands together and looked amazingly pleased with herself. "Well, then…. we'll just sneak by the good-for-nothing guy at the check-out and get you a shopping bag. They all have trashy Christmas paintings on them, but at least the book won't get wet in the snow."

---

When Dean got back to their room he found Sam awake, the blanket pulled up to his chin, looking much younger than the nine years he was.

"You're back," he whispered, relaxing visibly as Dean sat down on his bed.

"Told you I wouldn't be gone long." He smiled. "Come on, make a little space for a frozen person." Sam blinked at him a few times before Dean gently shoved him from the middle of the bed and stretched out next to him, his back against the headboard.

"Where's the medicine?" Sam asked warily.

"In the shopping bag. Here." He gave Sam the bag with Christmas paintings on it. Sam peered into it and turned back to Dean with a surprised gasp on his lips.

"You bought a book!"

"It's been known to happen from time to time."

Sam's finger slid over the dark blue cover until suddenly a shadow crept over his face. "You didn't steal it, did you? I know we have only little money left and – "

"No, Sammy, I didn't steal it." He gave Sam a pat on the shoulder. "Although it would have been fun to watch your face again when you unwrapped girly stuff." He paused for a moment. "There are nice people at the bookstore."

"You mean they gave it to you for free?" Sam leaned on him and yawned.

"Not exactly, but stop asking questions! You're supposed to rest." Dean took the book out of Sam's hand. "How about I read it to you?"

Sam stared disbelievingly at him. "You would?"

"If you promise not to tell anyone. I've got a reputation to uphold."

"I promise."

Dean opened the book and turned to the first page. "Taran wanted to make a sword; but Coll, charged with the practical side of his education, decided on horseshoes," he read out and Sam snuggled closer to him, his eyes closing. "And so it had been horseshoes all morning long. Taran's arm arched, soot blackened his face. At last he dropped the hammer and turned to Coll, who was watching him critically …. "

---

They stood outside the motel room, Dean's voice nearly inaudible over the softly falling snow.

"He kept his promise," he said.

"I have a feeling he always does." She tilted her head against his shoulder and he laid one arm around her. "Merry Christmas, Sam and Dean," she whispered and a moment later the snow filled one pair of footprints.

- fin


End file.
